the tutoring quest

            As you might be aware, living in Manhattan isn’t exactly cheap.  And though I rarely spend money on much besides Greek yogurt, used Amazon books, and subway tickets (and even those I limit), my champion budgeting skills can do nothing to lesson the blow of rent.

            I had a job last semester that I might gently describe as less than ideal.  Unfortunately, the quest to find a preferable one that pays the same amount didn’t go well.  On to plan 2 – consider taking a lesser paying job if I can supplement it with an occasional second job, so that the combination salary is equal to/greater than the pay of the original job.  Which is how I started searching for all the tutoring services I could find in New York City and sending in applications.  I went to/go to a good school.  I double majored and graduated with honors.   I’ve got some teaching experience.  Surely an agency will hire me! 

            False. 

            In reality, tutoring services in NYC want a few things from their applicants.  A) Advanced degrees from universities that make you sound more impressive than you probably are. B) Perfect test scores, ideally on the SAT, ACT, GRE, and a dozen or so AP and SAT II subject tests. C) Roughly half your age in tutoring experience. 

            Seeing as how the thought of looking at the SAT or GRE ever again makes me want to hide under a desk, the fact that I could probably use a bit of tutoring myself for the math (and science) of any high level standardized test, and the minor detail that I’ve never tutored anyone in my life, I clearly leave much to be desired. 

            “Maybe you can get more experience and try applying with us again,” one of the guys who interviewed me over the phone said.  “You can do independent tutoring by setting up a profile on a tutoring website.”

            “Can you give me some?” I asked.

            Plan 3 – So I spent a week sitting on my living room floor, setting up a tutoring profile and taking online quizzes to certify myself in a couple dozen different subjects that I can never really imagine myself teaching, but, hey, why not?  Then it was time to visit the job board and beg for tutoring jobs.  Oh, your third grader is having problems reading?  I’d love to help!  Your 8^th grade son’s struggling with Algebra?  I haven’t taken an Algebra class in 8 years, but I’ll give it a shot!  You live 18 miles away?  Let’s meet halfway! 

            No luck.  Until last week when I got a surprise message from a mom whose 12^th grade daughter needed help with her American government midterm.  Yes.  Yes, I’d love to.  We set a date and time, and she instructed me to take a taxi from Union Square to her apartment.  I hung up feeling triumphant and relieved that I’d managed to avoid the fact that I haven’t taken an American government class in 6 years, and my knowledge of it doesn’t far surpass my knowledge of, say, botany, or greyhound racing.

            The possibility that I’d gotten myself in over my head has been lurking all week.  I’d given myself a half-hour overview to remind myself of what Legislative, Judicial, and Executive mean (via wikipedia, of course) and gotten ready to leave when another dilemma occurred to me.  I didn’t know how to get a cab.

            I’ve ridden in one taxi in New York.  It was the summer before my senior year of high school, when I visited the city for the first time with my parents.  The only thing I remember about that ride is that it terrified me.  I took taxis in Providence, a few times in Rome, and once in Segovia, but all of those were either taxis I called myself or caught at an airport or train station, where they were conveniently waiting for me/practically begging me to get in. 

            I had to confess, so I asked my roommate for help.  “How do I get a taxi?  Do I just, like… raise my hand?”  There's no way it actually works the way it does in the movies, I thought, but she reassured me about the proper curb standing/arm raising technique, and I set off. 

            I feared there was a secret trick no one filled me in on when probably 30 taxis passed me as I stood on the curb with my arm raised.  Should I wave it around?  Should I keep it raised? But one finally stopped.  The driver didn’t say a word.  I’m used to trying to have conversation in broken English/Spanish/Italian (this combination, regardless of the country I’m in) with taxi drivers.  I’m not used to my taxi having a TV that conveniently shows the week’s weather.  He had a soft, kind voice when we reached the address and he finally spoke.  “Which one?” The buildings around us looked identical.  “Oh. Uh. I have no idea.” 

            Ten minutes of trying to figure out the buzzer in the wrong building and getting some guidance from a delivery man later, I found the building across the street.  Two hours after that, I left my student with a completed power point project on racism in NYC, and more money than I make working two days at my current job.  No knowledge of government branches needed.  Mission accomplished. 

            And though I still have my old job and no more tutoring jobs planned yet, I’m hopeful.